


It comes and goes in waves

by Gypsywriter135



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Derek has a lot of feelings, Happy Ending, So. Much. Angst, also he thinks he's cursed, he just doesn't know how to express them, sort of character study?, which makes his life difficult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2012-09-16
Packaged: 2017-11-14 09:45:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/513918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gypsywriter135/pseuds/Gypsywriter135
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek thinks he's cursed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It comes and goes in waves

**Author's Note:**

> The title and idea is from the song "Comes and Goes (In Waves)" by Greg Laswell.
> 
> Story is un-Beta'd

Derek Hale is cursed.

 

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. He’s been cursed since the day he was born. His mother used to tell him that he was born under the Hunger Moon in February. It was during that month that all the prey disappeared from Beacon Hills’ woods for several weeks.

 

The pack had gone hungry that month.

 

When he was five, and Laura six, the two were playing around their territory in the cool summer night and Derek hadn’t been watching where he was going and fell into the lake. He almost drowned before Laura had dived in after him and pulled him ashore.

 

On the eve of Laura’s thirteenth hunt with the family, Derek had howled out of excitement while they were chasing the deer and the next thing he knew, arrows were being shot through the darkness. His father had taken four in his back, his mother two in her thighs. Laura had one sticking out of her gut, and his aunts and uncles and cousins had all suffered from the resulting fight with the hunters.

 

They were all alive when they got back home, but Derek had a niggling feeling that he was the one to blame.

 

When Laura snuck into his room later that evening, he had sniffled apologies into her shoulder.

 

At the age of seventeen, Derek was flying high. He had one more week until his birthday and a beautiful girlfriend, and everything seemed to be going right for him for a change. He was actually doing fairly well in school and just that month, he and Laura had taken down an entire herd of deer.

 

It wasn’t until Laura caught him in the halls after his third period class that he knew something was wrong. Laura was supposed to be in class herself, halfway across town at the community college. She was not supposed to be here in Beacon Hills High School, eyes red and the smell of smoke nearly choking.

 

“Something’s happened,” she breathed. “The pack… they’re…”

 

Derek’s heart plummeted. “What?” Laura’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes filling with tears. Derek’s hands gripped her shoulders in a strong grip, slightly panicked. “Laura. What happened?!”

 

His sister lets out a strangled sob behind her hand the tears flow from her eyes down her cheeks. She viciously shakes her head, and Derek can feel his knees grow weak. He begins to tremble, panic overriding every other emotion and thought in him. He knows he’s going to shift, and he grabs Laura’s hand and drags her down the hall and out the door. He makes it to the tree line just in time and instantly shifts into full-out wolf mode before leaping forward and taking off toward home. He leaves Laura standing at the edge of the trees, sitting on her legs as she cries.

 

When he reaches his house, he is prepared for a multitude of scenarios except for the one that greets him. The house is still smoking in the cool air, its remains black and charred and a mere shell of the grand mansion it was less than twelve hours ago. Derek vibrates with shock, standing still right on the edge of the den. His blue wolf eyes are wide. He shifts back to human out of force; it wouldn’t do for someone still lurking around to see a wolf wandering around the remains.

 

He approaches slowly, taking in the scene. The back left wing is completely gone, the living room filled with burned husks of furniture and prized possessions. There’s nothing left of the kitchen. Derek’s room is black, his sister’s identical, his parent’s room’s floor falling to the exposed ground below.

 

He goes through the house in a daze, trying to pick out familiar scents and sounds. The smell of smoke is the only thing left; his home is silent.

 

The sound of a car pulling up the drive snaps him out of his trance. He’s standing in what remains of his father’s office when the footsteps grow closer. There’s a shadow in the hall, and a person rounds the corner.

 

It’s the Sheriff. Derek recognizes him from the paper that his father always reads. He’s young, just a year in the job, and still has the youthful energy of one who had just started his family. But his eyes are sad and sympathetic when they land on the teen.

 

“Derek Hale?” he asks, more out of greeting than necessity.

 

Derek nods once.

 

“I’m going to need you to come with me,” the Sheriff says softly, raising an arm in invitation. “We need to take your statement for the records.”

 

Derek doesn’t move.

 

“It’s going to be okay, son,” the man continues. “Your uncle’s still alive; he’s at the hospital right now. Doctors say he should survive.”

 

“Uncle Peter?” Derek asks, voice hoarse.

 

The Sheriff nods, twitching his wrist. “Come on. After we talk, I’ll drive you to the hospital myself.”

 

Derek moves without thought; his father had once said that the Sheriff was a good man. He’d voted for him in the election. He had a son of his own, a few years younger than Derek. The teen could smell the sadness, the sympathy, and the concern flowing off the man. He reaches the Sheriff and the man rests a light, comforting hand on his shoulder. Derek lets himself be steered numbly out of the house and down the porch steps to the cruiser.  Laura’s sitting in the front seat and she looks up when he slides in the back.

 

Neither speak a word on the ride to the station.

 

When the police ask them questions, Derek grows impatient. No, he doesn’t know anyone who would want to burn his house. No, they have no other family. Yes, everything was normal that morning when they left for school. He thinks the questions are stupid, until a thought pops into his head.

 

“Can I call my girlfriend?” he asks suddenly.

 

Sheriff Stilinski gives him a look. “Uh…. Sure…” he sounds odd, but hands over his phone. Derek hurriedly dials the number, only to find the number disconnected. He feels like he swallowed cotton.

 

“I need you to find her,” he says. If someone killed his family, they could have gone after her too. “She could be in danger.”

 

The elder man gives a curt nod. “What’s her name?”

 

“Kate,” Derek replies. “Kate Argent.”

 

Laura stiffens beside him. Derek ignores her.

 

Stilinski gives another nod and begins typing away at his computer, pulling up files and records. The more he looks, the more his face takes on a confused expression. “Son,” he says finally. “Kate Argent doesn’t live in Beacon Hills anymore. It says here that she moved to San Francisco last week…”

 

Derek’s stomach drops. “No… no, I just saw her three days ago…”

 

Laura puts a hand on his knee. “He must still be rattled,” she tells the Sheriff as Derek opens and closes his mouth, not a single sound escaping. He can feel the disbelief, the denial, the devastation flowing through him. He can barely hear as Laura and the Sheriff converse.

 

In a flash, he’s up from his chair and out the door, ignoring the Sheriff’s protests and his sister’s frantic pleas. He runs out of the station and waits until he’s out of eyesight before shifting and taking off towards Kate’s apartment. She lived a few miles away.

 

Derek knew she was an Argent. He knew that she came from a long line of hunters. But she’d convinced him that she wanted out of the family business, even if she had never said what that was; Derek had never said he was a werewolf.

 

They had loved each other; as soon as Derek was done with school, they were going to move out of Beacon Hills and buy a house in Sacramento. They were going to raise a family and live happily ever after.

 

But everything changed the second Derek skid to a stop outside her back door, shifting easily. He let himself in and felt his heart break.

 

The place was empty. There was no trace that Kate had ever been there. There were no candles, no pots, no pans, no plants. Even the scent of her was gone.

 

Derek fell to his knees and leaned over, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the carpet in the room.

 

But not even the stench of vomit could overpower the overwhelming smell of smoke that surrounded the place.

 

* * *

 

His luck doesn’t get any better in the years following the fire. It doesn’t get any worse either, though, so Derek counts that as a win. He and Laura move to New York for a few years, staying with a friend of their father’s. His pack is small, but not nearly as close as the Hale’s were. Laura and Derek don’t trust them, and the pack doesn’t trust them, so he supposes that mutual mistrust binds them.

 

Laura makes Derek get his GED, and the two of them find odd jobs in the city. They rent an apartment in the same building as the alpha, but all of them know that the Hales are omegas now. The only reason they stay with George is because even if they’re not pack, there’s still strength in numbers.

 

At night, Derek tosses and turns in his bed, unable to sleep. Every time his closes his eyes, he sees fire, he hears screams, the smell of smoke overpowers all his senses.

 

He usually ends up climbing into bed with his sister and wrapping around her. She sighs and holds him close, running her hands through his hair.

 

One night, Derek gathers up the courage. He begins to talk, to ask questions.

 

“Do you think it was quick?” he mutters, fiddling with Laura’s dark locks.

 

“I don’t know,” she murmurs in response, back to him. She’s annoyed, he knows. She had to work a double shift today and she’s tired. They both got money from the insurance, but they don’t spend it. It feels dirty.

 

“Or do you think they were like Uncle Peter, slowly burning until the pain was too much?”

 

Laura stiffens. “Jeez, Derek.”

 

Derek ducks his head. “Do you think Uncle Peter will get better?”

 

“I don’t know, Derek,” she sighs.

 

“What about Kate? Do you think she could have been forced-”

 

“Oh, my God,” Laura hisses, turning to sit up on he elbows and glaring at him. “Stop. Kate’s an Argent, there’s no way she didn’t do it willingly.”

 

Kate was still a sore subject. Derek had insisted on searching for her, but the address she had registered wasn’t valid. Her scent had faded into nothing fast. Derek was still convinced that she’d been innocent in the whole affair, but Laura kept telling him not to be delusional. He secretly believed that she blamed him for the whole thing; he certainly did. After all, he knew deep down that Kate was guilty. But he was the one at fault. He’d been in a relationship with her; she’d used him to find out intel… he’d been too naïve and young to see beyond anything other than what his heart was telling him.

 

Derek swallows, shrinking back. He was afraid. He was afraid that Laura would one day decide that he wasn’t worth it anymore and leave him.

 

“I was just-”

 

“Derek!” Kate growls, eyes flashing. “Let it go! She killed our family, okay? She’s a hunter and she hunted and she got her prize. Get over it! She wasn’t in love with you! She didn’t care about you!”

 

Derek stares at Laura, eyes wide. He bites his lip and takes a deep breath, calming his nerves. He knows Laura can hear the increase in his heart’s speed, but he doesn’t care. He nods once and turns on his side, facing away from his sister so she can’t see his face.

 

There’s a few minutes where nothing happens before Laura sighs, blowing out her anger, and she shifts behind him before her hand is nudging his shoulder.

 

“Derek,” she says softly. “Derek… I’m sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking… I’m just tired and I don’t really want to talk about it…”

 

Derek sniffs once before turning around. Laura is sitting up and he maneuvers himself up as well and wriggles into Laura’s arms. He’s taller than her, by a lot, and it’s a little awkward, but eventually they manage. He’s sitting against the headboard of the bed, Laura in his arms facing him. His head in buried in her chest, getting her nightshirt wet, and her fingers lightly rub up and down his back. She hums softly, a lullaby that their mother used to sing, and after an hour, he’s asleep.

 

In the morning, Laura makes him pancakes for breakfast, complete with bacon. They don’t talk about that night.

 

Derek resolves that he needs to get stronger. Laura’s basically been handling this by herself for over a year now, with Derek simply as emotional baggage added to her own.

 

He may not be an alpha, but Derek sure as hell isn’t going to go through life a mess of emotions.

 

They share the weight, and it works out. Derek can sleep in his own bed again, and Laura begins to laugh once more.

 

That’s the best thing that’s happened in months.

 

* * *

 

When Derek turns twenty-one, they leave New York and head to Chicago. Things with George become tense and they all agree that leaving would be best. Chicago is fun; they run with a pack there; young, but experienced, and everything seems to be going okay.

 

Eighteen months after they move there, Derek comes home to find Laura and Seth, the alpha, in a heated argument that quickly escalates to claws and teeth.

 

Seth wants to mate Laura. Laura, of course, wants nothing to do with him. The fight is long and bloody, and he and Laura barely escape. The pack tracks them for weeks, looking for revenge for killing their alpha, and Derek suggest that they get a car. They can outrun the pack in a car, and their smell will eventually fade if they mask it with enough air fresheners.

 

Laura picks out the car, and Derek grumbles until she lets him pick the color. He grins and chooses black, and they peel out of the dealership in a brand new Camaro, radio turned up and the scent of lemon, pine, and strawberries flowing behind them.

 

They head south.

 

* * *

 

They stay in Houston for almost a year before they hear about the alpha back in Beacon Hills. Laura wants to go back, wants to look for him; it might be one of their family members that survived. Derek knows she’s kidding herself; he’s pretty sure she knows it too. But she still wants to go.

 

Derek really doesn’t want to go. He’s afraid of the ghosts that haunt that town.

 

Naturally, he loses that argument; Laura was always more strong-willed than he was. Where he’d rather sit and bide his time, seeing if the threat will go away on it’s own, Laura attacks with full force. He may be stubborn, but Laura is like a bull; she’s all horns and not afraid to go after what she wants.

 

He’s not afraid that she won’t come back; he knows that she would never do that to him. But he is afraid of what’s going to happen to him while she’s gone.

 

For the past six years, it’s just been the two of them. They’ve been the only people that the other can trust in this traitorous world full of territorial werewolves and deceitful hunters. When Derek feels like he’s about to make a mistake, Laura’s there to pull him back and show him reason. When Laura begins to go over the line of reason, Derek rescues her from the cliff and shows her the light.

 

He’s scared of what’ll happen to her. He’s scared that he’ll make another mistake like the last one.

 

She laughs when he tells her, sitting cross-legged on her bed as she stuffs t-shirts and jeans and underwear and bras into her duffel bag. He frowns at her.

 

“It’ll be fine,” she tells him, giving him a smile. “I’ll be back in a few weeks, and we’ll figure out what to do then.”

 

“I still don’t see why I can’t come…” he mutters, glaring at the bottle of shampoo in his hands.

 

“I told you,” Laura says, plucking the bottle from him. “It’s because we still need to defend our territory here. It may not be big, but it’s still ours. I don’t want any packs deciding they need to take over.”

 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ll be able to hold off a whole pack…” he growls, rolling his eyes.

 

“That’s when you call me,” Laura chirps. “Besides, who else is gonna do my research for me?”

 

“You do realize that I suck at that, right?” Derek says, staring at her pointedly.

 

Laura shrugs. “Just do what you can,” she says. She zips up the bag and stands there for a moment while Derek glares at the floor. She digs in her pocket for a moment before there’s a jingle and she’s taking Derek’s hand, prying apart his fingers and pushing the keys of the Camaro into his palm. He stares at them before looking at her.

 

“Take car of my baby,” she says with a smile.

 

“But how’re you going to get to California?” he asks.

 

“I’ll take the bus,” she tells him with a shrug. She curls his fingers around the keys and leans down to press a chaste kiss against his head. “Be careful, little brother. I love you.”

 

And then she’s picking up the bag and striding out the door.

 

“Love you, too,” Derek mutters, knowing she’ll hear. He waits until the sound of the bus disappears before lying down and curling around himself.

 

Three days later, he gets a text from her saying that she’s in Beacon Hills and to stop moping and go out. He smiles a little and texts her back.

 

They text back and forth every few days. Laura can’t find the alpha, but she’s on the trail of something else. She thinks she might know where Kate is, as well as the other Argents.

 

There’s a three week period where she drops off the grid. He’s worried, but confident in her abilities.

 

It’s when he gets the phone call that he knows something isn’t right.

 

It’s three in the morning, and he’s blindly groping his nightstand for his cell.

 

“Laura?” he asks, groggy and still not quite awake.

 

“Derek!” Laura’s voice is frantic, her breathing off, and Derek is instantly alert, sitting up in bed.

 

“Laura, is everything okay?” he demands.

 

“Derek, it’s him!” Laura hisses. “The alpha, he’s-” She’s cut off and Derek hears nothing but silence.

 

“Laura?” he calls, fear pooling in his belly. “Laura!”

 

When there’s no answer, he lets out a growl and his claws come out. He ends up shredding a pillow before he’s packing a bag and peeling out of the apartment, the Camaro’s wheels screeching.

 

He makes it to Beacon Hills in a little less than two days.

 

He’s sitting at the end of his old driveway, car parked but running, arguing with himself. He doesn’t want to go up there, but that’s where Laura’s scent is leading. It’s tinged with blood and fear, along with an unfamiliar scent. There’s a lingering smell of ash that lies just underneath and it’s making Derek sick.

 

Growling to himself, Derek hits the gear shift and punches the gas pedal, speeding up the drive before he can change his mind. When he reaches the house, he pauses, running sad eyes over it before getting out of the car and heading inside.

 

Everything’s the same as when they left all those years ago. The smell of smoke isn’t as strong, but it’s still there. Derek has to breath through his mouth to avoid his stomach churning.

 

He walks through the house once before picking up Laura’s scent and following it.

 

He is not prepared to find his sister’s waist and legs three miles from the house, the top half of her torso nowhere to be found.

 

Derek pukes in the river, tears running down his face. He flees when he hears the police and the dogs. He runs to the hospital, worry for his uncle making him move fast.

 

Peter is fine. Burned and catatonic, but alive. Derek hides out in his room for hours, telling him everything, knowing he probably can’t hear him, but Derek needs this. Peter is the last of his family… Derek is drawn to him.

 

Laura’s gone… Peter’s barely functioning… And Derek is alone.

 

Derek’s kicked out after visiting hours are over, and he walks back to his old home slowly. He’s hyperaware of the sights and sounds around him, scared that the alpha or something else will attack him.

 

He spends the night huddled in his old room, clutching his head and refusing to let any more tears fall. It’s not until he hears the howl of the alpha that he gathers his courage and heads into the woods at a sprint.

 

The least his sister deserves is revenge. And he’s going to find the alpha that did it if it’s the last thing he does.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t find the alpha, but he does find the other half of his sister. He drags the corpse back to the house and buries her, silent as he stands over her grave. He hears rustling in Hale territory and unfamiliar scents and he follows them.

 

They’re just kids, teenagers. One of them is bit… Derek can smell it on him. The other smells of medicine and herbs, a scent that reminds him of his mother from all those years ago.

 

He doesn’t know that they’re important. Not then. It’s not until later that he realizes that they would help him rebuild what was broken. They can never replace what he once had, but they can help him build anew. They can help stitch the pieces of his heart back together.

 

* * *

 

Derek yells.

 

He yells at Scott to give up his crush on Allison. He knows that it can only end in pain, and he tries to spare the kid. He doesn’t tell Scott why… he just lashes out with anger, his default emotion. He lets loose superiority and arrogance. He tries to get Scott to see reason, but the heart wants what it wants; Derek knows that it’s a lost cause no matter what he does.

 

He yells at Stiles, though the kid doesn’t really deserve it. All Stiles wants to do is help, and that’s something that Derek fears. He likes Stiles, but Derek is cursed and doesn’t want to lose possibly the only person who he wants to stay.

 

Everyone else leaves in the end anyways.

 

He yells at Peter. He yells about how he’s supposed to help him; he’s not meant to go on like this. He’s not an alpha, but he can’t stay as an omega. Because no matter what he tells himself, he doesn’t have a pack; not anymore. He tries to recruit Scott, but Scott keeps on insisting that he wants nothing to do with it. He’ll eventually accept it; everyone does, in the end.

 

In the meantime, Derek yells. He yells, because it’ll keep people away. And if people aren’t near him, then he won’t effect them with his curse. And if they’re not under a curse, then they can’t get hurt.

 

So he yells.

 

* * *

 

He’s attracted to the Stilinski kid. No, not in that way.

 

Derek likes his company. Stiles talks. He can’t seem to stay quiet for long, and always needs to be moving. It distracts Derek, and most of the time, Derek is happy for a distraction. He likes listening to Stiles ramble on about pointless things before he slips in an important fact here and there expertly before continuing on with his endless chatter.

 

Derek learns a lot about Stiles that way.

 

When he’s rambling on about wolf’s bane, he ends up admitting that his mother’s favorite flower had been lilacs of the same color. He mentions that his father’s an alcoholic when he talks about how a werewolf’s body burns all the alcohol in their systems before it can effect them. And he accidently lets slip that he’s terrified of what he’ll do when Scott inevitably gives up on being his friend.

 

Derek’s not sure people realize how smart and clever Stiles is. He’s one of the top ten people in his class, but his behavior tends to keep people away. Derek secretly thinks that’s all an act to begin with anyways. Stiles may flail and be loud and clumsy, but so are about half of the popular crowd in high school. The teen can read other people easily, and he’s actually not half bad at lacrosse. Derek’s still trying to work out why he sits on the bench when he could at least play on the field.

 

He keeps people away, for the same reason Derek does.

 

They can relate.

 

So Derek sits and listens. Sometimes he tells Stiles about his family. Sometimes he tells him about pack dynamics. Other times, Derek confides in Stiles that he really doesn’t know what he’s doing.

 

Stiles just nods. He doesn’t say anything unless asked. He gives decent advice.

 

And sometimes, when Stiles is tired or thinking, or researching, the two of them sit in silence.

 

Derek likes these moments best.

 

* * *

 

When Derek discovers that Peter’s the alpha, the rest of his cracked world shatters. He loses all hope in everything.

 

His only family…

 

The night he kills his uncle, he holes up in his old house. He destroys what’s left of the living room and buries Peter under the floorboards. He slips down to the floor afterwards, head in his hands, and he weeps.

 

He weeps for his family. He cries for Kate, because even after all this time, all the shit she put him through, he still had feelings for her. And Peter didn’t have the right to kill her the way he did; she deserved to die by Derek’s hand. He wanted to kill her. He may have still loved her, but years of grief and distance had put reason in his head.

 

It’s only when Jackson comes looking for the bite that he decides that he’s better than this. He needs to go back to rebuilding.

 

A new pack, one hand-picked by him, who will look to him for guidance and reassurance, is the only way.

 

They’ll have no choice but to trust him. And if they trust him, then maybe… just maybe… he’ll be able to trust them too.

 

If his curse doesn’t take hold, that is.

 

* * *

 

The Kanima Fiasco, as Stiles has come to call it, happens, and Derek is falling. He’s lost in a sea of problems that he doesn’t know how to handle. He wishes Laura were here; she knew way more about this stuff than he did.

 

He even wishes Peter were here; he just needs someone to tell him what to do. He has no idea how to handle this, and the Argents are only making his life worse. He can’t even leave the train station without someone shooting at him, but if he doesn’t then Jackson will kill everyone.

 

If it’s not one thing, then it’s another, and Derek keeps making blunder after blunder. He gets paralyzed by the Kanima twice, he loses Erica and Boyd, Gerard beats Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski is suspicious, and Scott is more concerned with Allison than anything else.

 

Derek is just so tired…. He’s tired of this place, he’s tired of dealing with this shit, and he’s really tired of being cursed.

 

When Jackson becomes a werewolf, Gerard disappears, and it seems as if Chris has a temporary truce with them, things begin to settle down.

 

For about a day before Derek picks up the scent.

 

An alpha pack.

 

Derek really hates his life.

 

* * *

 

Derek’s attracted to Stiles. Yes, like that.

 

God, he hates it. He hates the feeling he gets when Stiles catches his eye. His stomach flutters and he gets so frustrated when Stiles doesn’t do what he says, when he stands up to Derek.

 

He’s pretty sure Peter knows, the smirks his uncle throws his way say loads.

 

But he can’t. The last time he felt this way, it turned out that the person was a hunter and burned his family alive.

 

He doesn’t want a repeat of that. He’s not sure his heart can take it.

 

When he mentions it to Peter, the elder man scoffs.

 

“Stiles is harmless,” he says with a wave of his hand. “He’s nothing like the Argents.”

 

But that’s not quite true and they both know it. Stiles could be dangerous if he wanted. Derek honestly doesn’t think the boy realizes the power he holds just by being human. He did that stunt with the mountain ash; not even the best wizards that Derek had met could do that.

 

And Stiles is clever. If he wanted, he could use all that knowledge to his advantage and literally destroy Derek and the other wolves. He could be the most powerful person in Beacon Hills if he wanted to; if only he’d take the step forward and stop hiding in the shadows of his friend. If people could look past the awkward and see the real Stiles, they might think twice before brushing him off.

 

But Derek knows, and he’s weary. He’s afraid that if he lets Stiles in, lets him know things that are personal, he’ll one day use them against Derek, the way Kate had.

 

Derek can’t take much more heartbreak.

 

Besides, he’s cursed anyways.

 

* * *

 

“You’re not cursed,” Stiles tells him, a quirk of his lips but all traces of amusement gone. “Bad things happen to you, but that doesn’t mean you’re cursed.”

 

“How do you explain the _amount_ of bad things?” Derek asks from where he’s sitting. They’re in Stiles’ room, the boy on the edge of his bed, woken from sleep, Derek sitting backwards in the desk chair. “I feel like more bad things happen to me than anyone else.”

 

Stiles shrugs. “Wrong place, wrong time. Trying to help everyone isn’t a curse; it’s admirable and sweet, but not a curse.”

 

Derek huffs and lays his head on his arms, which are crossed over the back of the chair. “I’m _always_ in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he groans. “Besides, how do you explain what happened with… with Kate?”

 

He hears Stiles shrug again. “Shit happens? I mean, it’s not just a simple ‘wrong place, wrong time’ thing there. You thought you loved each other. You were young, you didn’t know better. So you gave out your heart and it got broken; happens to the best of us.”

 

“It didn’t get broken,” Derek mutters.

 

“Okay, shredded, torn, maimed, pick your synonym,” Stiles says, waving a hand in the air. “The point is that you were a sixteen year old boy who fell in love with a girl. Love blinds everyone’s judgment. I mean, just look at Scott.”

 

Derek picks his head up and glares at Stiles.

 

“Okay, maybe not the best example,” Stiles says, offering him a small smile. “How about Jackson and Lydia? That better?”

 

“Not really winning any points here,” Derek sighs, letting his chin rest on his arms as he stares at Stiles.

 

Stiles shrugs and shifts restlessly. They’re quiet for a moment before Derek gets up to leave. He’s just crawled out of the window and is getting ready to close it when there’s movement from inside. He whips his head up and Stiles is right in front of him. Suddenly there’s lips against his and he’s frozen in shock.

 

Stiles pulls away and stares at him for a beat before offering him a tentative smile.

 

“Is that example better?” he asks.

 

Derek seems to have lost the ability to speak. Stiles’ grin only widens and he pulls himself back inside, shuts the window, and closes the blinds. The light flicks off, but it’s still quite some time before Derek can move.

 

Peter laughs at him when he goes back to the house. Derek growls and locks himself in the remains of his room, but he can still hear his uncle.

 

Stiles’ warmth lingers on his lips.

 

* * *

 

Derek can’t sleep.

 

He’s sitting up in his bed, Stiles facedown on the sheets next to him lost to the waking world, and Derek is staring, terrified, at his newly repainted walls. They’re a deep, navy blue color with a black trim. The moonlight coming from the window makes everything glow a blue tinted color, and Derek can’t take his eyes away.

 

He feels as if he’s made a mistake. He and Stiles... there’s no words for what they’ve become. His wolf purrs happily inside him, but his human heart is beating a rapid beat that he can’t control. It’s filled with happiness, love, and contentment; but it also has a fear, a hesitance, and suspicion lurking underneath it.

 

He hasn’t felt this way since Kate, and look how well that turned out.

 

Derek brings up a hand to his mouth, absently chewing on a nail as he thinks, eyes never straying from his spot on the wall. He knows he should sleep, but he can’t bring himself to. He’s afraid that if he sleeps, he’ll wake up and it’ll all be a dream, or Stiles will be gone, or he’ll open his eyes and be surrounded by tongues of flames and smoke. He’s afraid that Peter will sneak in and slash his throat or worse, Stiles’. Even after a year, he still doesn’t trust his uncle. He’s hardly slept more than a few hours every night, always making sure that when he does, he’ll be able to wake up at the smallest sound or change in atmosphere.

 

Sure, the other betas have taken up residence in the newly rebuilt Hale house, but that doesn’t give him comfort. Even though he made them, even though they’re pack, he still doesn’t trust them. Erica and Boyd left him without a single thought of hesitation, Isaac is more inclined to do whatever Scott tells him than Derek, and Peter’s only still here because this is his home too; he’s got more right to be here than Derek does. He was meant to be an alpha, while Derek was always content with being a beta.

 

Things had gotten a little better with the Argents, what with Allison being Scott’s mate, but Derek still has trouble trusting them. They’re still hunters, and he’s still a werewolf, and this flimsy truce they have could fall apart at the slightest move.

 

Jackson and Lydia want nothing to do with him, which is fine; he has regrets about turning Jackson anyways, and that was before the Kanima Fiasco.

 

Stiles, the only human, is the only one Derek feels like he can trust.

 

That thought alone terrifies him.

 

How can a simple human with an arson of sarcasm and cleverness and no magical powers so easily win his heart? It shouldn’t be this way; Derek shouldn’t want to give himself wholly to a human who is not bound by the same laws he is. How exactly is this supposed to work?

 

Derek sighs, scrubbing his hand down his face and glancing at Stiles. It had happened quickly and it was unexpected. Derek hadn’t meant to get this involved. After that first kiss, they’d taken things slow.

 

And today, after finally defeating the Alpha Pack, and in the throws of victory and joy, they’d fallen into bed together and the next thing Derek knows, it’s dark out and the smell of Stiles and sweat and many other things is permeating his nostrils. It wasn’t something he had ever planned. But Stiles makes him do stupid things sometimes, no matter how much he tried to push away.

 

He chalks it up to his curse; it’s the only explanation. His curse has caused him to act without thinking and now he’s going to lose everything and he’s going to be right back where he started.

 

God, he’s making himself sick.

 

Derek pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, laying his head down on top. He hates this; all he wants is to feel safe again, like he had when he was a kid. He wants to be able to come back to a home and have people actually be happy that he’s back. He wants to spend Christmas with a family where he’s not afraid of the pine needles on the tree catching fire from the lights draped around it. He wants to walk in and have people smile at him, ask him how his day was, where he went, did he find anything exciting?

 

Stiles shifts on the bed next to him, moonlight making his skin paler than usual. He opens a bleary eye and meets Derek’s gaze, his mouth turning from his small smile into a thin frown. He instantly sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes before stretching briefly and leveling Derek with a look.

 

“Everything okay?” he asks.

 

Derek shrugs.

 

The teen shifts closer so that their shoulders are touching. He nudges him gently. “What’s wrong?”

 

Another shrug.

 

Stiles remains silent, unmoving save for leaning his head on Derek’s shoulder. Derek watches his long fingers fiddle with the comforter, tracing patterns only he knows on the fabric.

 

“I don’t know what to do…” Derek whispers eventually, eyes never straying from his lover’s hands.

 

“About what?” Stiles asks just as softly.

 

Derek huffs quietly. “Everything?” he says. “The pack, Peter, Scott, hunters, every fucking problem that seems to come through here…” he pauses before adding, “you…” in a quieter tone.

 

He’s expecting Stiles to ask him what that means, to be angry, to go away, and quite frankly, Derek is almost hoping that that’s what’ll happen. That way, he won’t have to deal with this anymore and he can cross one thing off the mental list of emotional problems in his mind.

 

But the boy surprises him, as Stiles seems to do more and more. Instead of yelling at him, Stiles smiles against his shoulder and reaches up to pry his arm away from Derek’s legs. He curls their fingers together and runs his thumb along the back of Derek’s hand. “How about you tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours,” he suggests, “and I’ll see if there’s anything I can do.”

 

“I can’t do that to you,” Derek breaths, mesmerized by the feel of Stiles’ skin against his.

 

“I want to help,” Stiles tells him, but Derek shakes his head.

 

“No, not that… I can’t let you in…”

 

Stiles frowns and lifts his head, staring at the werewolf. “Why not?”

 

“Because I’m cursed and if I let you in, then you could-”

 

“Oh, my God,” Stiles growls. “You’re not seriously still going on about that stupid curse, are you?”

 

Derek glares back at him. “But I _am_ cursed!” he argues quietly. “Ever since I was little, bad things happen to me and the people around me! I mean, just look at what’s happened since I’ve come back to Beacon Hills! First the alpha, which turned out to be my crazy psychotic uncle who killed my sister, then it was the Kanima, then Gerard, who we still haven’t found, mind you, and the Alpha Pack and let’s not forget about the fact that I’m practically living next to a family of hunters that continuously blames me for everything that goes wrong and wants to kill me!”

 

Derek can feel pressure building in his chest, and he fights it down with deep breaths. Stiles is silent, and Derek knows he’s staring at him, but he can’t find the courage to meet the boy’s eyes.

 

It’s a quite some time later when Stiles lets a small chuckle loose.

 

Of all the reactions that Derek’s anticipating, that is definitely _not_ one of them. His head snaps to the side to look at Stiles, who offers him a grin.

 

“You’re not cursed,” the boy says. He shakes his head when Derek’s eyes narrow and he opens his mouth to protest. “No, seriously, listen.” Derek’s mouth snaps shut. “Everything bad that’s happened to you has happened here, in Beacon Hills. I mean, think about it. What were some of the bad things that happened while you and Laura were gone?”

 

Derek thinks for a moment. “We got caught in a fight with a pack in Chicago,” he says. Stiles nods, because he knows what Derek is talking about. Derek had told him all about Laura and their travels long ago.

 

“Okay. And what’s happened to you while you’re here?”

 

“Too fucking much,” Derek sighs, lowering his head back to his knees again.

 

“Exactly. The bad things that happen are all in Beacon Hills, and not just for you. My mom died here, Scott’s parents got divorced, Lydia’s forced to chose between parents, Jackson’s adopted and hates it, Isaac was abused by his father, Matt drowned…”

 

Derek stares at Stiles, who meets it with his own gaze.

 

“It’s not you, it’s this place,” Stiles concludes. “It’s like a magnet for tragedy.”

 

Derek feels like a weight is being lifted from him. The more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Stiles is right. Beacon Hills is cursed. He’s not cursed…

 

He can feel the moment the burden leaves him, a small, relieved smile making its way to his face. He can feel the happiness and warmth radiating from Stiles as the boy grins at him.

 

“I’m not cursed…” he mutters, unable to wipe the smile from his face. He can feel tears building up behind his eyes. “I’m not cursed!”

 

Stiles cranes his neck to press a kiss on his cheek. “No,” he says. “You’re not.”

 

Derek lets his eyes fall on the teen beside him, grin growing. In a swift motion, he’s pushing Stiles back against the mattress, kissing him deeply, feeling a warmth envelope his heart.

 

Stiles is right… he’s not cursed. If he’s not cursed, then maybe, just maybe, he can begin to trust his heart a little. And he can start with the boy right in front of him, who he somehow just _knows_ wouldn’t go through all this trouble just to betray him.

 

Later, Derek falls asleep to fingers combing through his hair, a smile on his face, and the knowledge that when he wakes, Stiles will still be there. He sleeps deeply for the first time in months, unafraid of the things surrounding him.

 

The smell of ash, he realizes as he slips away, is gone, no longer lingering just under the scent of herbs and love and trust.

 

* * *

 

 Beacon Hills is cursed.

 

Good people died, families were torn apart, the evil tended to triumph more than the good. The land vibrates with an energy that the people can feel, but don’t understand. The curse is old, cast by the most powerful beings at the beginning of time.

 

The longer the curse goes on, the stronger it gets. It effects everyone in its wake, takes hold of unfortunate events and the people surrounding them and follows them like a puppy.

 

But Derek Hale is not cursed. Three years after he comes back to Beacon Hills, he and his pack, closer thanks to a certain human, up and leaves with their families and moves far away from the town. They live long lives, they run in the woods, and they don’t have horrid things happen to them. Derek and Stiles get married, Scott and Allison have some kids. Peter doesn’t go crazy and kill everyone. Isaac finds a nice mate and they settle down. Lydia and Jackson take off by themselves, start their own pack. Erica and Boyd stay.

 

There are no hunters besides the Argents, and they have a treaty that neither side breaks. Sheriff Stilinski and Melissa McCall become a couple and Stiles and Scott become real brothers.

 

Derek mourns his sister, mourns his family. He mourns the life he could have had. But when he falls asleep at night in his huge house, his pack in the surrounding rooms and Stiles in his arms, when he watches his niece pounce on her aunts and uncles, when he sees the adults sneak loving kisses to each other when they think no one’s watching, when Stiles makes a joke and he laughs from his belly, when he thinks about how much Laura would love his mate, when he sneaks a cookie from the cooling rack and Stiles yells at him to keep his hands off until they’re not anymore, he can’t help but be happy for the life that he found after all the disaster that he experienced.

 

So, no. Derek isn’t cursed.

 

Derek Hale is loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I think people often forget that Derek was probably still a teenager, either still in high school or just out of high school, when the fire happened. I mean, he's still really young. And after all that, after everything he knows and the shit that he's had to live with, the guilt and the fear, he's probably really messed up in the head. He probably has real issues with trusting people because the last time he trusted someone like that, she burned his family alive. And Peter killing his sister, probably the one person he had spent the past six years with in close contact, is bound to hurt to the point where he realizes that family probably isn't safe either and the only person he can trust is himself...
> 
> So I wrote this. Badly...


End file.
